


In the Arms of a Monster

by mothdotjpeg



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter in Cuba
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:02:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25225768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mothdotjpeg/pseuds/mothdotjpeg
Summary: "Still awake?" He responded with a question, simple and full of care. Maybe a trace of worry, but he wasn't really surprised that Will was awake. Nightmares plagued his mind still, although he never mentioned so out loud. Will hummed in response, not looking at Hannibal. Enjoying the closeness as he slipped under the sheets next to Will. "Can't sleep without me?" They both realized it was the first time they'd vocalized it. The shared space, a safe intimacy. Will smiled as he turned to look at Hannibal who was of course admiring the others face.(Will spends the night thinking, unable to sleep without Hannibal)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 8
Kudos: 144





	In the Arms of a Monster

It was one of those nights. The ones that seemingly last forever, where the ceiling becomes familiar in the darkness, and you feel a yearning ache in your stomach that lingers. Craving sleep and dreams and rest, giving up and moving onto other cravings as the clock shows the morning growing closer. 3 am, yet it felt like it should be 7 am by now. There should be a warm shower, a simple breakfast, tugging on clothing, and starting the morning as usual. Well-rested. No nightmares. The new usual.  
But, of course, tonight wasn't usual. Will was alone, staring at the ceiling of his new home. Home. He rarely called it that, some deep ache in his brain still yearned for his small house in Wolf Trap. Sometimes Hannibal’s Baltimore house too. Part of him even ached for Europe, the small amount of time he had spent there. But, that aching didn't mean he didn't enjoy this house. This place, however lonely it felt now at 3 am. He enjoyed it here. And who could blame him?  
He hadn't been able to sleep. For a while, he tried to distract himself but found none of Hannibal’s books to be interesting and they had no dogs to entertain him. No fishing lures to make, no FBI cases to solve. And sadly that evening, no Hannibal to cook with. He couldn't bear to cook alone, not only because he was terrible at it without the strong hands of Hannibal to guide him, but also because seeing the kitchen empty made his loneliness grow. Hannibal had been gone for all of one evening, and the bed felt freezing cold. Reminding Will of his old life, one that lived in his mind palace for later use.  
Here he was, every minute feeling like hours, the sheets holding the heat of the Cuban air tight to his body. Making his skin yearn to be held once more as it had been for endless nights. 3 am. And all he could do was miss what he normally avoided.  
It's not that Hannibal and he hadn't been enjoying their post-death life. Being presumed dead had its perks. Being free and alone together was comfortable. Domestic. In their own way of course. But Will avoided Hannibal’s looks and touches, the way his body made Will's turn red and warm. Until night came, until he curled into Hannibal’s chest. Loved and seen.  
It started a week after they had settled in. The nightmares, of course, were not new. They were a familiar burden that Will had hoped would go away. When they healing, his body had been too tired to dream. Exhaustion had his mind too tired to torment him. When they settled into the house, when Will had told Hannibal he couldn't live without him, couldn't bear to not feel the blood on his hands again like they had the night of his becoming, he had felt like the nightmares would stop. No longer was the stag haunting his every step and every move. But, the nightmares stayed. Hannibal had, on their first night in comfort, offered Will the bed. He had been the one still healing, the bullet wound a constant reminder of their history, but he just kindly smiled and said he'd take the couch until they found another bed. The small comfort of their secret home had its downfalls. Will had ended up on the couch after much persuasion on his end. It had been the most they had talked in weeks. Fighting softy until Will had ended up on a couch, sweating.  
He hadn't realized he was sleeping until he sat up, shaking, sweating, staring at Hannibal who was standing at the doorway. Hannibal didn't look concerned, perhaps it was a simple curiosity in his eyes.  
"Was I talking in my sleep?" Will had asked awkwardly, still trying to remember where he was. Hannibal had nodded softly and taken Will's hand in his, helping him up and into his arms.  
They hadn't touched like that since the cliffside, this time was better Will had thought. Both alive, both safe, although part of his craved their bloody and broken bodies. He had been too tired to protest as Hannibal led him upstairs to the bed, stripping Will's sweaty shirt off, and laid down next to him. Will had woken up in Hannibal’s arms. Neither of them minded, neither of them mentioned it. The couch to nightmare to bed routine had continued for a week or so before Hannibal merely started to pat the bed when Will left the bathroom. Will hadn't complained, just joined him there. And the nightmares had stopped, or at least when he woke shivering in the hot Cuban air, he felt safely held in Hannibal’s arms.  
And that's what led to now. Will stared at the ceiling, sweaty and alone. Feeling as though he hadn't slept alone in years instead of a month or so. The creeping nightmares behind his eyelids made his tired brain stay awake.  
Hannibal had said he needed to run an errand that morning, never going into detail because Will could always assume. But when he said he might be gone overnight, Will almost found himself protesting. Not only for Hannibal’s dinners or comforting arms but also because it didn't feel safe. It didn't feel like it was time yet. But he hadn't, he had smiled and nodded in understanding. Their usual silence caressing their tanned skin.  
Will's tired mind wandered to thinking of when Hannibal would return. If he would get any sleep, or if he should call Hannibal. The last one was off the table, it felt invasive. But just as he thought about the length of Hannibal’s errand, he heard the door downstairs open. Softly, slowly. As to not disturb the peace, the sleeping Will, who was awake. And relief clouded Will's brain, any anxieties disappearing. The sounds of Hannibal coming upstairs, quietly as to respect Will. It made his heart warm slightly. The door to their room opened, with the same softness. Hannibal let out a small sigh when he saw Will laying in the bed. Safe, just how he left him.  
"Home already?" Will said softly, eyes still on the ceiling. It startled Hannibal slightly, making Will smile as he slipped off his shirt and sat down on the bed, eyes wandering over Will's tired face.  
"Still awake?" He responded with a question, simple and full of care. Maybe a trace of worry, but he wasn't really surprised that Will was awake. Nightmares plagued his mind still, although he never mentioned so out loud. Will hummed in response, not looking at Hannibal. Enjoying the closeness as he slipped under the sheets next to Will. "Can't sleep without me?" They both realized it was the first time they'd vocalized it. The shared space, a safe intimacy. Will smiled as he turned to look at Hannibal who was of course admiring the others face.  
"Years ago, my dreams were plagued with..." he hesitated, his smile fading. "killing. Blood. The feelings of taking someone's life." Back then it had scared him, now it was all he craved. "But now I’m not afraid of that. The stag doesn't violate my mind or my sight." Hannibal was watching, listening, savoring the soft caress of Will's voice in the early morning air of their small Cuban home. It was domestic, hearing Will mention taking someone's life with his bare hands. The dreams he had told Hannibal about all that time ago inside his office.  
"And now?" Hannibal asked softly, not pushing or demanding, just caring. He really did change for Will, he really did show his emotion around him. Will sighed and his gaze sat steadily on Hannibal.  
"I always lose you. someway or another, I end up alone. Knowing I’ll never see you again." His voice didn't crack but wavered softly. The eyes that watched his as he spoke soften more if it was possible.  
"Will, my dear boy," They're bodies were closer, entangled. How it was when they awoke, not knowing how they ended up there. Protecting Will from his dreams, comforting him. "I’m here." Will's face was pressed again Hannibal’s bare chest, breathing in his scent. They didn't have to say anything for a while, just close and comforting. Like on the cliffside.  
"Hannibal," Will spoke softly after what felt like hours of the soft embrace. Hannibal hummed into Will's hair, gently stroking his back with his fingers. "I don't want to kill you anymore." And that made Hannibal melt more, holding him tighter.  
"I couldn't bear to leave you." Was all he said in response before Will let his eyes close, safe. Comfortable and loved. In the arms of a monster. He was safe.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this all on my notes app at 2am lmao, sorry it's a short one! Domestic hannigram shit always gets to me so I hope you enjoyed it ;)


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